


One Condition

by pressedinthepages



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bathtub Sex, F/M, Smut, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27184951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressedinthepages/pseuds/pressedinthepages
Summary: Jaskier returns one cold winter evening looking for a bit of warmth.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	One Condition

**Author's Note:**

> Reader Request [Hey! I love your Witcher fics! I know it might seem a silly prompt, but could you write an oneshot where Jaskier and the reader are sharing a bath together, and smut/fluff happens, please? Thanks so much!] Hey thanks nonnie! not silly at all, mostly just like, hella sexy.

A single flurry of snow floats past your window, blown by a soft wind that frosts at the edges. You’ve been teaching at Oxenfurt for about fifteen years now, and this is the first year that they’ve seen fit to house you in your own private quarters in the city, rather than the set of dormitories, but it was on one condition.

You let Professor Julian Pankratz winter in the home as well. 

Well, that certainly seemed doable when you had agreed at the start of the term. You had been left with a sizable house all to yourself, complete with a luxurious bathing room just off of the bedroom. The home became your sanctuary, letting you fill it to the brim with books and knowledge.

Just as the last of autumn had blown through, so had Julian, landing right at your door like a leaf whisked from a tree. You remembered him from your own time at Oxenfurt, having been a few years behind him. He had made quite a name for himself in his time traveling the Continent, and you looked forward to learning from him yourself.

But  _ by the Gods  _ did he talk.

From the moment he crossed your threshold with a kiss to the back of your hand and a request to be called “Jaskier,” he never actually seemed to stop chattering. He would talk about  _ nothing  _ for hours, pretty words lined with prettier threads. Jaskier prattled on about his travels, the weather outside, a nice flower he had seen while heading home. Hells, if he wasn’t talking, he was still making noise, humming as he went about his business around the house. 

It was...different. You were used to quiet, silence suspended on the web of a spider. But Jaskier brought music, and life, into your dusty old home. Your heart warmed whenever he bustled back through the door, arms full of papers and little odds and ends he had found on the way home. You could lose yourself in his eyes, and the way that he devoted himself fully in a moment with you. It was breathtaking, being on the receiving end of such pointed attention. 

Not that you’d ever tell him that. No, best to keep that bit to yourself.

You perk up as the front door suddenly opens to reveal Jaskier, looking all the world like the perfect representation of winter. His bright doublet is encompassed by a thick fur cloak, bright white and lined with a deep, wine red. His hair, soft chestnut waves that have grown a bit long in his tenure, is dotted with soft flurries of snow that have yet to be brushed away. He kicks off his boots, leaving them haphazardly off to the side. At least if someone tries to break in they won’t get very far before something of Jaskier’s trips them. 

Jaskier smiles when he sees you, shucking off the cloak and leaving it to hang on a peg by the door. “Ah, my favorite young professor. I hope you have not stayed up on my account, darling.”

You shake your head, holding out a steaming mug. “Not at all, Jask. I was just reading for a bit when I peeked out of the window and saw you coming. That white cloak is immensely recognizable.”

“Ah, you like it? I had it made not too long ago, I liked the contrast of the colors and how it differs from my typical wardrobe...You know, I once knew a man in Novigrad who…”

And there he goes, sipping his mulled cider as he prattles off into no man’s land with his words. You smile as you listen, settling back into your chair. Jaskier moves to perch atop the arm, his backside barely brushing against your shoulder. You shift a bit, not wanting to read too far into it. Surely he just wanted a seat close by, ignoring the several other chairs in the room. 

“-for a bath?” Jaskier asks, and you blink back at him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“Sorry, what was that? I was in an entirely different world.”

Jaskier smiles, bright and wide and  _ contagious.  _ “No worries, love. You are a scholar, it is what you do. I was going to draw a bath to stave off the cold, and I asked if you would like to join me.”

You thank the Gods that Jaskier is not one of the Witchers that he sings of, since he surely would have been able to hear the way that your heart stuttered in your chest. “I-well, if you wouldn’t mind, I don’t want to intrude-”

“Nonsense, I insist! That is, if you truly want to?” Jaskier goes serious for a moment, like a turn of a page. Suddenly, his face is all hard lines and worry between his brows, as if  _ he  _ were the one concerned about overstepping a line. His eyes are still kind, asking you genuinely if you would like to accompany him. 

You smile, looking away before meeting his gaze once more. “Sure, Jaskier. I think a warm bath sounds lovely.”

Jaskier springs up, holding his hand out to you with all of the joy and mirth returned to his features. He pulls you up, leaving your now abandoned mugs on the floor beside the chair as he leads you to the bathing room. 

The wooden floor is cool on your bare feet but the air in the room is warm from the raging fire that heats water for the tub. Jaskier quickly undoes the delicate clasps on his doublet and drapes it over a rod along the wall. He shucks the sleeves of his chemise up to his elbows as he crosses to the fire. You see his arms swell as he lifts the great pot, and you can only hope that the heat in the room camouflages the way that your cheeks flush with arousal. 

“Should I go fetch some more?” Jaskier grunts as he sets the empty pot on the floor. The tub is filled about a third of the way, but that should be plenty for the two of you. You shake your head, swallowing thickly as Jaskier begins to untuck his chemise from his trousers. He lifts the shirt over his head, revealing a broad chest covered in dark, thick hair that just  _ begs  _ for your fingers to run through. 

Jaskier closes the distance between you, stopping just shy of touching you. “May I, my dear?”

“ _ Please…”  _ you whisper as Jaskier brings his hand to the neck of your blouse. He deftly undoes the tie at the top and flitters down the line of buttons. When the shirt falls open Jaskier’s hands push the fabric aside and down your shoulders, his touch like fireflies alighting on your skin. You shiver into his hands as they toy with the waist of your skirt, teasing before undoing the tie and letting it pool around your feet. 

You stand before Jaskier in only your underclothes and you instinctively move to cover your chest. 

“Oh, darling,” Jaskier croons, “Please don’t hide from me…”

You blush as your arms fall away, and Jaskier’s breath hitches high in his chest. His hands find your hips and grasp the hem of your underclothes, his eyes finding yours once more before moving. 

“Go ahead, Jaskier.” Your voice is small but sure, and you stand confidently as Jaskier slides the delicates down your legs. You step out of them and reach for Jaskier’s trousers.

Jaskier chuckles as you frantically search for buttons down the front or a tie on the side, but you can’t find any fastenings. “On the back, dear.”

He turns, revealing the silly little bow at the small of his back that holds his trousers on. You smile as you slowly pull the ties, feeling the fabric loosen where it sits on his hips. As they start to fall you take the initiative to fit your fingers into his smallclothes as well, bringing everything to the floor in one swift motion. 

You kneel on the floor for a heartbeat too long, just admiring the view. Jaskier’s legs are long and hairy, his thighs thick from the countless miles he has trekked over the Continent. You are oh so tempted to reach up and give his pert little ass a squeeze, but you just barely resist.  _ Maybe another night… _

You stand and turn towards the bath and you hear a gasp when Jaskier turns around. You look over your shoulder to find him looking directly at your own backside, and he flushes even deeper when you catch him looking. 

“Sorry, darling,” he whispers, a look of awe crossing his features, “you are truly a work of art.”

You laugh, a new wave of arousal soaring through you when you look down and notice that Jaskier is half-hard, hanging heavily against his thigh. You step into the tub, letting the warm water lap around your ankles. You hold out your hand, beckoning Jaskier to join you.

He takes your hand, fitting your fingers with his own as he climbs in with you. “Go ahead and sit, love. I’ll sit behind you.”

You lower yourself into the water, sighing a bit as it warms your skin down to the bone. Jaskier follows close behind, and the sound that  _ he  _ lets out is obscene and goes  _ straight  _ to your core. The water sits right at your chest and you watch the steam rise in little tendrils that dissipate before your eyes. You scoot forward and lean back to dunk your hair under, feeling the droplets fall fast down your back. 

“May I wash your hair for you?” Jaskier purrs into your ear. You melt into him, feeling the strength of his chest resting against your back. 

“If you’d like,” you reply, and Jaskier leans over to collect the soaps and oils. The scent of flowers fills the air as he pours something into his palm and begins to run his fingers through your hair. His nails scratch along your scalp as he works the soap into a lather, rubbing little circles into the tender skin atop your crown and down to the nape of your neck. 

You are very quickly lulled into a sense of peace, your arousal all but forgotten. But every touch of his hands sends sparks down your spine and you can feel your core flexing and squeezing, searching for any small bit of relief. 

_ By the Gods,  _ he’s even humming now. But it’s slow, and his voice has dropped lower than the sweet, bright tone you have become accustomed to. You feel his chest vibrating against your back, and even down so far as the persistent hardness that presses itself against your ass. You moan darkly, letting the resonations from his voice soar across into your bones, everything having amplified in the matter of the moment between heartbeats. 

“Jaskier, please let me get this soap out of my hair so I can kiss you,” you murmur, fidgeting under his fingertips. He chuckles as you scoot forward once more, his hands returning to your hair as you lean under the surface. The water turns hazy with the suds rinsed from your hair as you sit back up, turning to face Jaskier where he rests with his back against the rim of the tub.

Your hand rests on his neck as you lean in, Jaskier’s finding your hip as he pulls you close. His skin is warm and wet from the humidity in the room and your fingers slip into his hair, curling a bit at the edges where it has dampened. You close your eyes as your lips meet, reveling in the sweet indulgence of his attentions. His lips are softer than they have any right to be in the chill of winter, but you can’t linger on that. 

You climb into Jaskier’s lap and straddle his hips, shivering when you feel his fingers drift under the water to your core. His eyes lock with yours as he leans into you, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses over your chest while he plays with you beneath the surface of the water. You sigh as he slips a finger into your heat and circles the little peak of nerves with his thumb. 

Jaskier’s fingers move deftly around, in and out and adding a second as he strokes up and down your side with his other hand. “Ah, my dear,” he murmurs into your skin, “may I have you?”

_ “Yes,”  _ you breathe, pushing into his hands as your hips chase him. He withdraws his fingers from you and takes your hips in a strong, firm grasp. All of the air leaves your chest when his length finds your core and  _ pushes,  _ filling you slowly. Your hips meet, and the world has fallen away from the walls of the room. 

You stare deep into the clear pools of Jaskier’s eyes, blown out with lust and looking at you with such blatant adoration it’s dizzying. “Please, Jask.”

Jaskier grins, “Anything for you, love.” His grip on your hips tightens as you raise yourself, sinking leisurely back down and up again. Jaskier’s head lolls back against the edge of the tub as the water swells around the two of you, his eyes shutting as he takes his pleasure. You scratch along his scalp as you increase your pace, feeling his thighs twitch beneath you. 

You continue faster and faster, chasing your climax as it builds with each passing moment. Water sloshes out onto the floor in waves. Jaskier shifts, planting his feet and pressing his chest up against you as he meets you thrust for thrust. You see stars with each spear into your core, moaning freely when his teeth dig into the meat of your shoulder. 

Your climax overtakes you, blinding in its euphoria. You are painfully aware of every sound and feeling in the relative vicinity but they are only background noise, deafened by Jaskier moaning his own orgasm into your neck. You feel him swell and spill within you, carefully riding him through his high as you come down from your own. 

The only sounds become your own heavy breathing accompanied by the gentle dripping of bathwater onto the floor. Jaskier looks up at you with that same dreamy look in his eyes and you find that you cannot resist the urge to meet his lips. The kiss you share is slow, languid, painted with contentment and strewn with sweet release. 

“Come to bed with me,” you whisper against his lips, stroking your thumb across his cheek. You feel his smile against your mouth, his cheek pushing up into your hand. 

“As I said before, my darling,” he murmurs,  _ “anything for you.” _

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading :) you can find me on tumblr @pressedinthepages


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